


Curtains

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Escapism With Black Coffee [1]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Blood and Gore, Claustrophobia, Copious references to "Invitation to Love", Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Ignores Season 3, Lodge dodge (kind of), M/M, Major spoilers for the end of Season 2, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: Harry feels weak and sleepy, his eyes droop and won’t always stay open. He falls asleep upright every few minutes, startles himself back awake, rinse repeat. He has to stay awake. He’s waiting for Dale. Harry sits and thinks and tries not to sleep while he waits for a man whose first name he’s never said out loud. Or at least Harry never called him Dale to his face. But he’s not Agent or Coop to Harry, he’s Dale, a first name and a smile like sunbeams coming through the gaps of a tree’s leaves and as much cherry pie as will fit into such a skinny body.





	1. Dark Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Well! Like always I show up to a new fandom a day late and a dollar short, but I bring a humble offering that took me two entire days to bang out.
> 
> I didn't like The Return, therefore it does not exist. The only thing I took from it is a brief phone conversation between Harry and Frank, but Frank doesn't appear.
> 
> There's a tiny amount of offensive language, bearing in mind that this is 1990. I'm LGBT+ and only included such language because it's realistic to the time period, and it's extremely brief.
> 
> As a final note, I LOVE THESE TWO. Re-watching the original two seasons, they have such great chemistry and I keep expecting them to kiss even though logically I know they won't.

_ Dale, come back. _

Harry sits and thinks that same thought over and over again. He feels weak and sleepy, his eyes droop and won’t always stay open. He falls asleep upright every few minutes, startles himself back awake, rinse repeat. He has to stay awake. He’s waiting for Dale. Harry sits and thinks and tries not to sleep while he waits for a man whose first name he’s never said out loud. Or at least Harry never called him Dale to his face. But he’s not Agent or Coop to Harry, he’s Dale, a first name and a smile like sunbeams coming through the gaps of a tree’s leaves and as much cherry pie as will fit into such a skinny body. Harry has sat here for - if he remembers right - a little over a week now, drinking water and coffee out of thermoses that Hawk and Andy bring for him. They try to give him food, too, but he’s so scared and so tired that every time he tries to eat he throws up immediately after.

_ Dale, come back. _

Harry’s legs are sore from being in the same spot so long, but he can’t stand, not really. He’ll only get up to take a leak every so often. He has to keep his eyes on that dent in the ground and wait for Dale. And so he thinks some more - bravery and intelligence and professionalism only overshadowed by how big and soft Dale’s heart is. Dale’s so beautiful. It’s not that he fits in well with Twin Peaks, but more like Twin Peaks fits in with Dale. He’s so comfortable here and remembering back he got comfortable right away, the second Harry met him and he asked about their trees.

_ Dale, come back. _

It hasn’t actually been that long, but somehow Harry feels like Dale’s always been part of Twin Peaks. He’s been here for so many of the important things, or the instigator of so many important things. He got Audrey back, he figured out  _ Bob _ and  _ Mike. _ He held and comforted Harry after Josie died… Dale is so lovely, he’s an incredible lawman and an even more incredible friend. Harry wants him back more than anything, he has to come back from whatever hell he’s been dragged down to through that little circle. It’s been just over a week. It’s night again. Hawk, when he came with another canteen of water a few minutes ago, said that Annie got out of intensive care this morning and will be leaving Twin Peaks soon. Dale needs to return before she does so he can say goodbye, because Harry knows if that doesn’t happen he’ll be devastated.

_ Dale, come back. _

Harry’s head jerks up for the billionth time and he discovers he spilled half his water all over his left foot. Behind his eyes is still Dale yelling at Gordon Cole through the phone about not punishing Harry for punching Albert.

_ Dale, come back. _

He has a sip of water and rubs his eyes - they’re stinging, now, not just achy with exhaustion. His legs want to do anything else but move him from where he’s sitting, but Harry forces them to work just long enough to kneel by the dent in the ground.

_ Dale, come back. _

Harry’s too tired to stay upright. Hands and knees, elbows and knees. Curled into a ball on the dark, moist earth. The dampness seeps through his clothes, but it’s nothing compared with the tears leaking from his eyes.

_ Dale, come back… _


	2. Precipitation With Sodium Flavoring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine the doppelgangers as Bob's puppets.

How long?

How long has he been here?

How long will he keep being here?

How long will his friends wait for him?

How long until he finds the way out again?

Dale runs in perpetual circles, like a laboratory mouse put in a maze with no exit. It’s all red curtains and a zigzagged floor, everything is the same and he can no longer recall with any accuracy how many times he’s looked into an identical room with chairs and a statue. His shoes slap the floor, almost as if they’re applauding his idiocy. He can’t turn around,  _ Bob _ will catch him. Hawk warned Dale about this, about imperfect courage and annihilation. Is this how annihilation feels? He thought his courage was perfect, but apparently it wasn’t so. Dale’s thought a great many things that have turned out not to be true. He thought he’d entered here because he loves Annie, but really he was afraid of losing her, of losing someone he could learn to love. The entry to the White Lodge is through love. The entry to the Black Lodge is through fear.

It’s raining.

How is it raining? This plane of existence is outside of the one he normally inhabits, there is no rain here. There are no such things as rain or time or love. Only bone-deep fear, an endless track of red curtains and black zagged lines, and  _ Bob _ chasing Dale while wearing his face.

But yet, it rains now. Dale feels the drops hitting his face and neck, strange and warm and tasting of salt somehow when they drip over his mouth. This rain almost feels like it soaks into his brain, cleaning it of its fear. Like a fog burning away under the sun. He has no reason to fear  _ Bob, _ not anymore. Because if he can stop fearing  _ Bob, _ he’ll find the exit, the way to the White Lodge, where all is love. Laura was strong, she resisted  _ Bob _ from inhabiting her and so died for it. But it means  _ Bob _ isn’t all-powerful, he can in fact be held off. Dale can be strong under this odd salted rain, he knows there are things and places and people he loves who can lead him to the White Lodge. His love for them, and their love for him, will save him from this nightmare.

Dale stops running.

He holds still, waits.  _ Bob _ wears Dale’s face somehow, but Dale is no longer afraid. His mind spools through all the important physical elements of his life - Gordon, Albert, Diane, they all love him as a long-time colleague; Lucy, Andy, Hawk, love him as expert lawman and friend; the town of Twin Peaks, it loves him almost like a savior for helping them cope with the loss of Laura… and then, Harry. Harry first loved him as workmate when he arrived to help. Harry then loved him as friend when he offered comfort and healing after Josie’s death. Most recently, Harry simply loves him, full stop. Dale’s known about that but said nothing, because Harry doesn’t understand yet and may not be comfortable with the idea. But it’s so, so important. It’s the first thing he must do when he escapes, to definitively and undeniably show that Harry’s love is returned in full.

Dale latches onto that idea, the idea of Harry, that Harry is who he’s returning to above anyone else. There’s so much love there whether or not Harry’s realized it by now, and this is how Dale will be saved. It wraps around him like a blanket, muffles  _ Bob _ ’s wails of outrage at prey escaping. Dale loves Harry and is no longer afraid of  _ Bob. _ He can go home, now. He can go home to Twin Peaks.


	3. Weaknesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a gory injury.

Harry forces himself awake yet again, and sneezes because he pressed his face into the ground and now there’s dirt up his nose. He fell asleep apparently after crying for awhile. He wants Dale back, he wants that more than anything, he  _ needs _ Dale back. Harry’s soaked on his side from lying on the ground, so he goes to sit up… and his fingers brush cloth. A specific type of cloth, it would’ve taken him a little bit to recognize the feel if he didn’t open his eyes and look. The fabric of a suit, a suit worn by a special agent of the FBI.

“Dale!” Harry yells, even though there’s all of two feet separating them. His relief lasts exactly three seconds until he sees the blood starting to sop through Dale’s nice white dress shirt.

Dale flips a hand around, eyes closed. He finds a rock and holds it near his face. “Diane… I feel peculiar…” He gags and his head rolls to the side so he can drool blood. “It reminds me… reminds… I feel peculiar…”

Harry tears all the buttons off Dale’s shirt opening it, then bunches the sleeveless undershirt so he can look. A bullet hole, a stab wound, both gushing red. Harry doesn’t know that much about medicine, but he’s heard a couple times that for bleeding you press down on the wound to make it stop, so he does that. This earns him an absolutely horrible scream and right away Harry hates himself for doing it.

“Dale.” Harry tries to get his attention. “Dale. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

He realizes he doesn’t have a lot of ways to do that, though, especially not pressing down on injuries. Harry’s so tired, he doesn’t think he can carry Dale… maybe he can drag him…

“Diane…” Dale chokes out, now that he’s done howling, “I’m beginning to suspect… a very strong… strong possibility… I’m injured…”

“Look at me,” Harry orders. At least he tries to. “Dale, look at me. I don’t think I can carry you, you need to get up.”

Dale’s eyes crack open, and he smiles even as they close again. “Harry… I’m so glad… you’re here. We…” He turns his head and pukes up more blood. “We have something… to talk about. It’s important. Can you…?”

“Dale, get up.” Harry tries pulling him by his arms but he’s limp like spaghetti. “Dale, get up. You’re going to die if you don’t get up.”

“Harry…” How can Dale be smiling? Harry drags him from the ground but can’t stand up with his weight. He’s too tired to carry Dale, just like he thought. That’s bad for all kinds of reasons. “Did you know…?”

“Did I know what, Coop?”

Dale reaches up slowly and gently winds a lock of Harry’s hair around his finger. “Did you know you have… have the most delightful curls?”

Dale’s going to die like this. Dale’s going to die here and there’s nothing Harry can do about it. He’s too exhausted, he hasn’t eaten in at least eight days. He has no idea when Hawk will be back with another round of coffee.

“Dale, please get up,” Harry begs, trying to at least get him to sit.

“It took so long,” Dale whispers, still lightly twirling Harry’s curls. “I couldn’t find… the way out… Harry… the White Lodge… you got me there… it’s so pretty.”

Harry has no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but it’s terrifying. Don’t people talk like this when they’re dying? They’re both shivering, but probably not for the same reasons. Harry tries to will away the cold, hooks his elbows under Dale’s armpits. Maybe walking backwards… it’s not fun. Dale cries out or whimpers in pain with every step, and Harry’s still so exhausted. His muscles are burning less than a minute in and his legs are still stiff. Dale’s going to die because he’s too tired, he’s tired and he’s weak and both of those pathetic things mean Dale’s death. Harry rubs one side of his face on his jacket’s rough shoulder, and from the other side the tear drips off his jaw and hits Dale square in the forehead.

“Rain,” Dale whispers hoarsely. “It rained there…”

“It’s not raining, Dale,” Harry mumbles in a shaky voice.

“It rained there,” he says again. Dale’s insistent about it. “It rained…” Then he tenses up. “Oh…”

“Dale?” Harry stops pulling him.

“Harry, I don’t have words for this type of pain.” His tone is impossibly calm, even though his face is scrunching up and turning red. Tears run down from the corners of his eyes. “I believe I need immediate medical attention.”

There, at last, Harry’s scared enough for adrenalin to come to the rescue. He drops to his knees and gathers Dale in his arms, then hauls them both up and starts stumbling along the trail back towards the road. Dale drools blood all over his shirt, and Harry tries to go faster when he feels it soaking through. They both cry the whole time as Harry marches them to his vehicle, and getting there it takes some fumbling to drag Dale into the seat. Meanwhile Dale has his arms over his gut and is still spitting up blood onto himself every so often. Harry doesn’t waste time buckling either of them in, just puts his Bronco in gear and jams his foot on the gas as hard as he can. He forgets the siren until after they’re already going.


	4. Cumulative Incidences Of Pain

Dale wakes up to an ugly fiberboard ceiling that probably used to be white but hasn’t been for some time, as well as a saline fluid line running into his arm. On the other side, for the other arm - a similar bag, but with blood to presumably replace whatever volume he lost to his injuries after leaving the White Lodge. He hadn’t been expecting that, they’d informed him that since he’d come from the Black Lodge first that he must give something up, even something temporary, in order to go back to Harry. Dale had elected to sacrifice his physical health, and had returned to his original plane of existence with renewed abdominal wounds that he’d previously sustained in the line of duty. They’d told him it will help, somehow. He suspects they meant it would help with Harry in some way. Dale wonders, now, how long that may take.

It doesn’t hurt, at least not until he tries to sit up. Then it feels like someone is pulling on his entrails and he immediately thinks better of trying to lift himself from the rather uncomfortable hospital bed. Instead, he opts for an almost as productive course of action, rolling his head to either side in order to further survey his surroundings. On the right is nothing too unexpected, standard hospital supplies and a tray of “food” that appears positively indigestible, if not outright toxic. On the left, however, is Harry, leaning forward from his chair and sleeping with his face and arms on the side of Dale’s mattress. This is something of a pleasant surprise to wake up to, and Dale smiles. He wishes he knew where his tape recorder is so that he can inform Diane right away.

Dale tentatively reaches over, not wanting to disturb Harry’s obviously needed rest, and lightly plays with his hair. It’s so soft and pleasant to the touch, given the option to do so Dale could sit and waste entire hours twirling it in his fingertips. He wonders what type of bath products Harry subjects it to in order to achieve such a lovely feel, or if this is a naturally occurring texture. What Dale  _ does _ know is that Harry absolutely doesn’t take as good care of himself as he does of his town. But he should. He’s a wonderful man who very much deserves better than what he gives to himself.

_ I could’ve loved Annie, but I  _ do _ love you, Harry Truman, _ he thinks to himself.  _ I hope they were right in the White Lodge. I hope this injury helps you somehow. _

Dale becomes steadily more engrossed in the task of feeling his way through Harry’s dark curls, finding all manner of ways to wind them across his fingers or lightly pulling them just enough so they’re straight and then letting go to watch them spring back to their original shapes. What finally stops him is the untimely appearance of Doc Hayward, which induces a mild state of panic where he immediately removes his hand and attempts to play innocent. The last thing he wants is to have Harry run out of town due to his own errant behaviors.

Doc Hayward seems to have seen anyway, but also completely lacks any surprise or disgust. “It’s good to see you awake, Coop.”

“Thank you, Doctor. It’s good to see you at all.”

Doc Hayward nods slightly in Harry’s direction. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” Only now does he offer a confused frown, aimed at Dale’s injured torso. “How’d this happen?”

“It’s a long and confusing story, I’m afraid. I vaguely recall being carried out of the woods after a significant amount of pain. Prior to that, there’s very little I can offer in the way of a coherent explanation.” Dale pauses to breathe. “How’s Harry?”

“He dragged you into the emergency department by your armpits, then the second you were taken to surgery he laid down on the floor and passed out.”

Dale chuckles. “Poor Harry.”

“Poor Harry,” Doc Hayward agrees. “We got him to wake up after a few minutes and he drank some coffee, and he kept asking about you every five minutes until they finished stitching you back together and brought you out. I guess he fell asleep like this after I left last night.”

“When these wounds were separate incidents, they were much less uncomfortable to deal with.”

“I would think so. We may be able to discharge you tomorrow, but… I would advise that you don’t recover alone. Find a friend to stay with until you get your strength back.”

“I don’t imagine it would be difficult to find such a friend who’s willing to put up with me.”

“No, probably not. Alright, let me do your vitals and I’ll get out of your hair.”


	5. Pie... Of Course Pie

“All things considered, Harry, my current situation is far from terrible.”

“Huh?” He looks over at Dale for a second before turning his eyes back to the road. “What’d you say, Coop?”

“I said all things considered, my current situation is far from terrible. You don’t need to keep looking so upset.”

Oh. Right. Cooper can read him more easily than books written for toddlers. “Dale…” He wants to say all kinds of things, but what comes out is: “…what was it like in the White Lodge?”

Another glance over shows him Dale’s gorgeous smile bubbling up. “It’s wonderful there. Similar to the Black Lodge, but… less horrifying. The curtains are a silver-blue color and there’s no endless sprint through the halls on a loop. The midget and the giant were both there, as I recall, and… so were you. I would never have found my way back without you, Harry.”

“Really.”

“Absolutely.” And Dale proceeds to ramble for almost ten minutes straight about his experiences in the nightmare that was the Black Lodge. Harry listens as much as he can while also driving relatively safely through a pounding rainstorm, which is kind of funny since rain is one of the things Dale mentions. “It was the strangest thing, Harry. This rain tasted like salt.”

“And  _ Bob _ just… let you go? Stopped chasing you?”

“Not exactly, it felt more like he was prohibited from continuing to chase me in some way. I think he could no longer reach me. But I remembered… I remembered how loved I am, by friends and acquaintances and the wonderful people of Twin Peaks. This enabled my escape. It seems to have been the thing that drove  _ Bob _ away. But yes, the rain… it was a warm rain, and salted. I wasn’t expecting such a thing.”

Harry frowns. “Like seawater?”

“No, not like seawater, this was a more subtle sodium flavor… almost like tears. But it was rain. I’m sorry for saying that over and over again, Harry, but this fact so intrigues me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Coop. I don’t mind.”

Harry takes a second to mull that one over. Rain that tasted like tears, and seeing him in the White Lodge… so Dale escaped the Black Lodge right about the time he was crying in the dirt. Even considering everything he’s seen, done, and heard lately… that just feels a little too weird. He decides to say nothing about it. Dale doesn’t need to know how bad he was getting by that point.

“You seem like you’re thinking too hard, Harry.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Would you like to share what’s on your mind?”

“Not really. It’s not important.”

“Clearly it’s important enough to occupy your headspace, Harry.”

He curses Dale’s persistence. “You know how you said the rain tasted like tears?”

“Yes.”

“That’s because it wasn’t rain. It  _ was _ tears.”

“What leads you to that conclusion?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back. After everything that’s happened in this town, and then… and then losing Josie… you’re a good friend, Dale. A real good friend. I didn’t want to lose you, too.”

A quick glance over finds Dale frowning and nodding thoughtfully. “I see. That does explain, in a sense, why a manifestation of you was present at the White Lodge as well. I’m sorry I made you cry, Harry, but you should know that it’s probably what saved me. It cleaned out the fear that was blinding me and let me remember that the means of escape were through love. So, it seems very likely that your discomfort saved my life. Thank you.”

“Coop…”

“Yes?”

Harry sighs. “You’re welcome.” This confession was costly for his pride, and he has no idea what else he should say. It seems like they should be talking, but for now they aren’t, somehow.

Finally Harry parks the car and they go into his house for changes of clothes, since both of them are smeared with Dale’s blood. Harry already knows he’ll have to throw away his shirt, but at least none of it got on his jacket (miraculously). He puts on something casual since he won’t be back at work until tomorrow, then goes over and helps get Dale’s undershirt off.

“I appreciate you loaning me clothes, Harry, and I’ll do my best not to bleed through my wound dressings while wearing them.”

“You’re welcome. How long did Doc Hayward say you’ll be laid up for?”

“A minimum of three weeks. I think he may still be upset with me for rushing things last time.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“Harry, you’re cute when you worry, but I also hate to see you in distress so I’d like you to do less of it. I’ll be in Twin Peaks for at least another month while Gordon and Albert try to make sense of things on my behalf with the Bureau. I could leave sooner, but I have no inclination to do so… there’s an apartment with nobody in it waiting for me and I’ve been playfully described by my colleagues as a ‘workaholic’ on several occasions, so there’s plenty of both sick time and vacation days that I can spend here. Your town is charming, Harry, and I’d like to be here for as long as possible before returning to work.”

“Dale normally I’d say I don’t blame you for wanting time off, but why the  _ hell _ do you want to vacation here after everything that’s happened to you?”

Dale smiles at him. Of course Dale smiles at him. “Well, if you must know, there’s someone who… I’ve become romantically interested in.”

“Annie’s leaving tomorrow, though.”

“No, not her. Given the chance I could’ve loved her, but… it seems fate has other plans.”

“Well then who? Is it Audrey?”

“Of course not, there’s a twelve-year age gap between us assuming she wasn’t lying about her age… no, Harry, the topic of my romantic interest is for me to know and you to find out. In the meantime, I’m absolutely famished, so I insist on buying us an entire cherry pie for lunch.”

Harry can’t help chuckling. “How do you stay so thin eating the way you do?”

“Plenty of exercise and mental willpower. Now about that pie.”

_ Dale Cooper, you’re something else, _ he thinks as they both go back out to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the note of the 12-year age gap, Kyle MacLachlan was 30 when the first season of Twin Peaks was filmed, so I assume that's also how old Dale is.


	6. Cynicism And The Topic Of Same-Sex Attractions

Dale can’t help a minor bout of apprehension as he indulges in the Double R’s immaculate cherry pie - he’s been strictly ordered by Doc Hayward not to engage in any activities even vaguely resembling work for three weeks, and concurrent to his situation his colleagues are working hard to convince the higher-ups of inexplicable phenomena that most don’t believe could exist or take place. None of those things are what bothers him, however - more pressing is the knowledge that he will, in fact, have to finally leave Twin Peaks at some point. It means leaving this pretty town, the wondrous Douglas Fir trees, all the incredible friends he’s made here, and of course Harry. Harry who loves him enough to admit crying over him while he was missing. Learning that caused an entire spectrum of new emotions to bloom for Dale, because he could see very plainly how uncomfortable it made Harry to inform him of that.

“Harry, I would like you to know that I won’t burden you for any longer than my injuries need an extra set of hands to help tend them,” Dale tells him, mainly to gauge the response.

“Isn’t the hotel getting expensive? The rate’s not _ bad, _ but you’ve been there for long enough now…”

“It’s no trouble, I’m on paid medical leave and the Bureau isn’t stingy with the paychecks of their agents.”

“What if you rip your stitches or something?”

Dale takes a bite of pie before answering. “I don’t want to wear out my welcome with you, Harry. You’re a dear friend and I worry about stretching your patience with my persistent rambling.”

“Your ‘rambling’ doesn’t bother me, Coop. I’m worried about your health.”

“I see… well, if it’ll ease your mind, then I’ll stay for as long as you want me to, or until my vacation days are used up. Whichever comes first.”

Harry nods and smiles a little. “Okay, then. Sounds like a plan.”

Dale smiles, too. He’s happy to see Harry happy. “Tell me about your couch.”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Coop, you’re wounded. I have a camping mattress to sleep on and you’ll have my bed.”

“How big is your bed, Harry?”

“What?”

“Is it large enough in width to accommodate two people?”

“Well… yeah, but-”

“If it’s large enough in width to accommodate two people, then I have no intention of kicking you out of your own bed and making you suffer the discomfort of a camping mattress. It would make me feel like a terrible guest and a selfish friend.”

Harry seems to struggle for words at that. “Dale…”

“Yes?”

He huffs. “Nothing. Aren’t you full? That’s your fifth slice.”

Dale chuckles and polishes off said slice. “I am now. Alright.” He deposits his money and a generous tip on the counter, then stands up - apparently with too much eagerness, because he nearly has an emergency meeting with the floor before Harry catches him and keeps him still. Dale is temped beyond measure to remain in that position, held close by his handsome friend, but shortly following that thought is the realization that they’re presently still in a public space and this is much too obvious.

“Let’s go home,” Harry decides, keeping an arm positioned across his shoulders as they make for the door and strategically poised to catch him again should the need arise. “Maybe you should have a nap or something.”

“That sounds like an excellent suggestion now that you mention it.”

“Alright. Let’s get you home, then.”

Dale wishes he could dramatically faint on command the way women do in poorly-written tv dramas so that Harry will scoop him up and carry him away, then immediately berates himself for such a ridiculous and frankly laughable thought. If he were to faint, the odds are overwhelming that Harry would simply return him to the hospital, which would only serve to annoy everyone involved. Dale wonders if Albert were here whether he’d be called a sappy hopeless romantic, an idiot, or possibly a hopelessly sappy idiot. Probably the latter of the three. On the other hand Dale also has no means to ascertain how Albert feels on the topic of same-sex attraction, given that it’s never come up between them, so it’s entirely possible that-

“Coop, the car can’t open for you.”

Dale realizes he’s standing there like a buffoon staring into space and swiftly climbs into the vehicle. “Sorry. I was deep in thought.”

“I figured. Wanna talk about it?”

“It has to do with Albert’s cynical opinions on things.”

“Oh. Never mind.”

“He likes you very much, Harry. You can’t always take his demeanor at face value.”

“Dale, I know he’s your friend, and he’s been very helpful, but he should really learn to be less of a bastard if he can help it.”

“He earned the punch you gave him, yes. But he’s an excellent colleague and believe it or not he can be an excellent friend as well. He’s just not so obvious about being a good friend as you are.”

He notes the tips of Harry’s ears turning pink - a good sign. “I do my best, Coop.”


	7. Delightful Suspicions

Harry wakes up tangled in something warm and heavy with a soft texture. He didn’t mean to fall asleep - it started with Dale forcing him to lie down and prove that there was enough room for both of them on the mattress, and he’d held still until he was sure Dale was out, and… apparently he’d still been exhausted enough from a week without real sleep that he’d passed out as well. Now he’s got Dale wrapped around him from the side, snuggled up shamelessly and snoring against his chest.

Harry notices that Dale’s hair is a little messy, but strangely enough it’s just one tuft. Harry carefully tries smoothing it down, but it stubbornly sticks up no matter what he does. After a couple minutes he sighs and gives up on that. He also can’t help thinking that Dale uses way too much hair gel and wonders how it would look if it was combed out naturally. Asleep and with disordered hair, Dale’s still beautiful. It’s a weird idea, but Harry kind of wants to keep lying here and watch him for awhile. He remembers a time from before, studying Josie as she slept the same as he’s doing now with Dale. It was a peaceful feeling, like the world was perfect as long as they stayed that way… and lying like this, Harry starts to feel like that again. Randomly, he brushes his fingertips down the side of Dale’s face as lightly as he can. In response, Dale mumbles, shuffles even closer somehow, and relaxes back into slumber. It’s cute and domestic and what the hell is going on right now?

Harry freezes in place. He thought he got done with this crap decades ago, back when he was still in school and another boy on his football team pulled him aside and kissed him after practice one afternoon. He was scared by the fact that he liked it, that sometimes he liked looking at other boys the same way he liked looking at girls. For a long time, he’s been purposefully forgetting all about that. He almost made it disappear from his mind altogether, but now… now there’s a very handsome FBI agent sleeping peacefully on his chest. Harry trusts this man with his life, would trust Dale with his family’s lives. He thinks… he wants…

Dale moves in his sleep and mutters: “Gordon, speak up.”

Harry has to bite his tongue on one side and his inner cheek on the other to keep from laughing, because isn’t _ that _ ass-backwards from normal. He goes back to trying to flatten Dale’s hair for a minute, thinking. Has he been like this for awhile but not realized it? If so, does Dale know? Probably. Dale always knows when people are interested in each other. But is Dale interested in Harry? If Harry says something, will it end up being awkward for their friendship? It’s a tactical maneuver like getting hostages free. One wrong move means a world of hurt.

Except this is Dale. He’s not afraid of things that are strange or new, his hazel eyes see everything and he’s rarely surprised by the world. He’s the oddest of all oddballs, a man who learns through dreaming, and completely rolled with the punch of learning one of his friends was now a transvestite. Reminding himself of these things, Harry thinks that if anyone anywhere could be okay with this, it’s Dale.

“You’re really pretty, you know,” Harry whispers, so quietly he can barely hear himself. He’d never say that if Dale was awake, so now seems like a good time.

“You think so?” Dale answers, startling him.

“Are you awake?”

What a stupid question. Harry winces when he asks it.

“Yes, Harry, I’m awake. If I’m not mistaken it was you repeatedly touching my scalp that woke me.”

“Oh.”

Dale raises his head just enough to make eye contact and smile. “I thought this might do it.”

“Do what?”

Dale’s smile gets bigger. “You’ve come to an important conclusion sometime in the last four to seven minutes, and now you’re embarrassed at being caught. Now please tell me, honestly, why you’re playing with my hair.”

“Because it’s sticking up.”

“Then would you let me play with yours, too?”

Harry needs a second for that one. “You already did,” he realizes, suddenly remembering. “When you got back from the… whichever Lodge you were in, I was trying to get you up because you were injured. You started playing with my hair.”

Dale nods with a thoughtful expression. “Now that you mention it, I have a vague recollection of that… did I tell you your curls are delightful, or did I only think it?”

“No, you definitely said that.”

“Your curls are delightful, Harry.”

“Yeah. I think we’ve covered that.”

“I have a mildly embarrassing confession to make - when I woke up in the hospital and you were asleep with your head on my bed, I played with your hair then, too. How do you get it so soft?”

“I don’t, it just kinda does what it does and there’s not much I can do about it.”

“I like it.”

“I figured.” Harry almost smiles when Dale reaches up and starts touching his hair. Almost. He’s nervous about this, too nervous to smile. “Coop, I think we need to talk about some things.”

“Oh absolutely, we do,” Dale agrees. He makes that same grin as the one he wore when he asked about Josie the first time, back before they knew each other very well and Harry wasn’t used to his charming quirks. “How long have you been in love with me, Harry Truman?”

Harry chokes on his own voice for a second. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”

“That’s alright. I would’ve said something before, but I thought it would be better to let you figure it out for yourself.”

“I would’ve told you if I knew sooner.”

“I know.” Dale relaxes onto his chest again. “Are you going to pursue me?”

“I… do you want me to? The town will pitch a fit.”

“Yes, I thought of that several times… unfortunately the fact remains that my time here is limited. I may be able to stretch for two months, and given the chance I’d rather spend that time being with you than sitting and thinking about being with you.”

Harry doesn’t even know what to say to that. Finally he decides on this: “But doesn’t that seem kinda pointless?” Which is horrible. He shouldn’t have let that come out of his mouth.

“It’s not,” Dale assures him with saintlike patience. “I’ll have good memories to take with me when I leave, and I’ll find a way to come back. Hopefully without taking too long. It’s workable if we want it to be, Harry. There are phones and post offices. At the very least I’ll have to come back for Lucy and Andy’s wedding.”

Harry shifts them both so that Dale’s head is tucked under his chin. Even unable to see it, he knows that makes Dale smile. “Two months isn’t that long…”

“Then we should probably stop wasting time.”

Harry nods against his pillow and sighs. “Yeah.”

Dale kisses his neck and the warmth spreads all the way to his toes. “I’ll find my way back.”

“But the FBI sends you all over the place, right?”

“They do. If nothing else I could quit and work for you.”

“No, Coop, I can’t ask you for something like that.”

“You never did. If that happens it’ll be purely my choice to do so.”

Harry bends his neck so he can press part of his face into Dale’s hair. “So two months, huh? I wonder how we’ll fill all those hours.”

“I can help you at work.”

“You’re still wounded, Coop.”

“I can help you at work once my healing process is finished,” Dale amends.

“We could go on a fishing trip or something once you’re better. I don’t think they’d blame me for taking a vacation too after everything, so nobody would be suspicious.”

“Would they be suspicious? They already know us as friends.”

“Maybe not. I don’t know… I had to hide my relationship with Josie, but that was different.”

“Yes. It seems likely that others would view this to be much more shameful than being involved with a widow.”


	8. Dressed And Redressed

Click.

“Diane, I know it’s been some time since I’ve last reported in to you, so I’ve started a fresh tape because it seems likely I’ll use most or all of it. For starters, I’ve successfully escaped from the Black Lodge with the help of Sheriff Truman, however that’s not a topic I’m comfortable discussing at the moment so I’ll save it for later when my mood improves. However I’m excited to report that Harry finally understands his current feelings about me and until I leave Twin Peaks I’ll be spending as much time as possible enjoying his companionship. Unfortunately this may be a point of contention for the town if they became aware, so we’re choosing not to disclose this decision to anyone. I’m sure you’ve gathered as much from many of my prior ramblings, but I’m very much in love right now.”

Dale pauses, inhales strategically. He has a sip of coffee and relaxes back onto the couch before continuing.

“It occurs to me that I’m not doing myself favors by procrastinating… the Black Lodge has left some lasting effects on me, namely injuries to my abdomen in precisely the locations of wounds I prior sustained in the line of duty. My dreams since my escape have returned to normal so far. But there’s an unexpected… problem. Extremely unexpected.” He breathes again. “During my brief stay in the hospital, for all the times I was conscious, I requested that the curtains and door in my room be left open. Having the privacy screen drawn caused me to feel nervous… just now a similar issue has arisen. Apparently it makes no difference to my subconscious that the shower curtain isn’t red. I believe I’ve succeeded to wash the hospital smell off my skin, but I was unable to keep the curtain closed… the result is a wet bathroom and clumsily rebandaged wounds. I suspect Harry will be more upset with me about that than the bathroom floor. He’s offered to help care for me while I’m incapacitated.”

He stops again to finish the mug of coffee. “I’m now persistently wondering… not wondering. Worrying. I’m now persistently worrying about how my inability to cohabitate with curtains will continue to affect my quality of life going forward. I also worry how this revelation will affect Harry. I’ll be extremely dissatisfied with myself if I become a source of fear and stress in his life. He’s a wonderful man and deserves only good things.”

Dale turns the tape off. He has a lot more to say, but his abdomen is still sore from his foolish attempts to mop the bathroom floor with a towel and taking a rest seems to be the healthiest option for the time being. He occupies his time watching _ Invitation to Love, _ that soap opera Lucy enjoys, and is almost immediately confused by the convoluted and unrealistic plotlines. With all the strange occurrences he’s been witness to in the last few weeks, _ Invitation to Love _ would be much more realistic and entertaining for him if it somehow found a way to show the characters’ souls detaching from their bodies.

The thought about the length of time he’s been in Twin Peaks prompts him to start recording again.

“As a further addition to what I was discussing a few minutes ago, I’d like to say that time passes strangely here. Including my stint in the Black Lodge, I’ve been here for approximately six weeks. However it feels much closer to a year. The month that lasted for a year… if I ever wrote a memoir on my experiences here, that would be an excellent title. If I remember correctly, it was sometime during the second week when I fell in love with Harry. Judging by his behavior and body language he’s felt the same way for almost as long despite not realizing it until yesterday afternoon after sharing a nap with me. We’ve come to know each other quite well in such a short amount of time. Maybe that can explain why it feels so much longer than it was.”

Dale switches it off again and briefly wonders if Diane is tired of hearing him talk repeatedly about Harry; she’s the only one of his colleagues who knows he’s bisexual, assuming none of them have figured it out for themselves, so while Dale dislikes the notion of burdening her with useless details there’s simply nobody else to confide in on this topic. On that note, Dale remembers something else, and smiles as he presses _ record. _

“He told me he thinks I’m pretty. At the time he was under the impression that I was sleeping, and I admit that I was pretending because I could feel him messing up my hair and I was curious to study his behavior. But it was still nice to hear and even thinking about it is making major improvements to my mood this morning.”

The tape recorder is once again turned off, and Dale begins to think he’ll be like this all day, perpetually starting and stopping with more random thoughts and lovesick confessions than usual. He has a vague sense of pity for Diane, who will have to sift through everything and pick out the relevant parts, because she isn’t his therapist but he has no other means to get these thoughts out of his mind. Technology is a wonderful thing, enabling him to safely store his ideas on a roll of audio film so that they can be processed and unpacked at a later point while freeing up space in his brain for more important topics. Such as how, exactly, he’ll go about explaining the bathroom floor to Harry.

Frankly, it’s embarrassing that Dale is unable to complete a simple task such as bathing without a random problem like this popping up. There’s simply no reason for a shower curtain to cause him distress. It’s made of opaque blue sheet-plastic, not red velvet, and it in no way prevents him from leaving the shower at any time if he so chooses. And yet… it traps him. He feels unsafe behind curtains, now, any kind of curtains apparently. Dale feels pitiful, maybe even pathetic for this inexplicable new shortcoming. Perhaps enough of the water will evaporate in time that Harry won’t notice, and Dale won’t be forced to explain himself for the mess.

His wish for a simple solution is crushed when Harry returns for lunch.

“I got plate specials from Norma, she threw in an extra piece of pie for you, too,” Harry announces as he settles the boxes on the kitchen counter and begins unpacking them.

“Excellent… I should warn you to use caution in the bathroom, the floor’s quite slippery.”

“It is? Why?”

Dale decides not to stop and think about his words, and opts for the pure, unmolested truth. “The shower curtain made me feel trapped.”

Harry expresses surprise, concern, and distress all with his eyes, though he seems to be working not to let it show on the rest of his face. Dale isn’t fooled.

“Oh. So you… showered? What about your bandages?”

“Poorly redressed, but redressed nonetheless.”

“Yeah, maybe you should let me do it.”

Dale obliges, unbuttoning his borrowed flannel and draping it over the back of the kitchen chair he’s standing beside. He pulls off his undershirt as well with some amount of pain and then Harry’s there, bending down to tend his injuries with a container of medical supplies given to them by Doc Hayward. Harry removes the improperly-applied bandages and starts over from scratch in exactly the manner that was shown before Dale’s discharge from the hospital, preparing a far superior pair of wound dressings to the ones Dale had tried to do on his own.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“No problem. Now sit and eat something, I don’t want you falling over like you did yesterday.”

Dale smiles as he obeys, slowly pulling his shirts back on without tucking them in or even buttoning the plaid one - that can wait until he’s standing again. Harry sets food and multiple slices of pie in front of him, accompanied by a large cup of black coffee, and watches him eat all of it with a worried expression he’s clearly incapable of hiding. As terrible as that is, Dale feels very loved, and it’s almost enough to clear his mind of the fact that he’s now afraid of shower curtains.


	9. Take Bets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A phone conversation with Frank and some minor homophobic language.

Harry needs to talk to someone about this. Dale didn’t escape the Black Lodge unhurt, but those hurts are a lot more than his gut wounds. It’s been eight days now since Harry carried Dale into the hospital, and things are popping up that are off even by the already-weird standards of his favorite FBI agent. For starters, Dale’s so unnerved by the damn shower curtain that Harry caught him yesterday rinsing soap off himself outside with the garden hose. Besides that, Dale won’t usually close doors anymore either, at least not all the way. If they have to be shut, he’ll leave them cracked slightly, but usually prefers them wide open. Despite all the pie and whatever other kinds of food Harry sees him eat, he seems smaller and even skinnier than before.

Harry stares at the phone. If he touches it, it might actually bite him, but finally he gives in and dials.

“Hello?”

He sighs. “Hey, Frank, it’s me.”

A short pause. “What happened and who’s hurt?”

“Long story, nobody’s hurt.” It’s technically a lie, but Harry needs to keep things as vague as possible.

“Okay, are you going to sit there wasting time or can I hear the abridged version of this ‘long story’?”

“I’m having relationship problems, but not the usual kind. The person I’m seeing had something happen to them pretty recently, they’re having a hard time dealing with it and I don’t know how to help.”

“Well, what happened to this girl of yours?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Got lost in the woods for about a week.”

“Nightmares?”

“No. At least not yet. But they said the… trees were endless and it all looked the same, so sometimes they feel trapped or lost.”

Frank is quiet on the other end for a few seconds. “Why ‘they,’ Harry?”

“What?”

“It’s not a girl is it.”

Harry chokes on his own fear and can’t answer, which is answer enough by itself.

“I always wondered why you got that blanket party when you were still in the guard… so this… guy of yours. He got lost out in the woods?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“How does someone get lost in the woods up there? Everyone grows up in the woods.”

“He’s not from Twin Peaks, he’s from… somewhere else.” Harry knows Dale’s office is in DC, but has no idea where he’s originally from. He makes a mental note to ask about that later. “Somewhere else that doesn’t really have woods, apparently.”

“Aren’t you worried the town’s going to find out and lynch both your queer asses, Harry?”

“Frank I called because I needed your help! That’s not helpful!”

“Right. Well. Maybe he needs a head-shrinker.”

Harry immediately thinks of Dr. Jacoby and does his best not to shudder. “Not really an option.”

“Okay. In that case, there’s a weird trick I heard about once. I never tried it but it could be worth a shot.”

“Yeah?”

“Make him lie on his stomach, then you lie on his back. That’s really it.”

“Why would that help?”

“I guess it’s like a hug, but bigger. Something like that.” Frank snorts. “So you really did turn out to be a queer after all. Dad was worried about that when you were little.”

“I date women too,” Harry argues, hoping like hell there’s nobody outside his office door eavesdropping. “Why does it matter to you anyway? We’re in opposite corners of the state and I don’t hardly ever call you to begin with.”

“Just seems weird, you played football in school.”

Harry’s beyond sorry he called by now, so even though his brother can’t see him, he pretends to notice the time on a watch he doesn’t even own. “Shit, I have to go, I have a meeting in five minutes.”

They rush through goodbyes and Harry can’t set down the phone fast enough; after that, he puts his elbows on his desk and his face in his palms. What the hell is he going to do now? He didn’t need to remember the blanket party from when he was nineteen years old and much, much stupider than he is now. It also reminds him of being seventeen, when two of his “friends” held his arms and a third punched him in the stomach so hard he threw up. The cruel irony is that he would’ve gotten a worse beating if Frank, big mean Frank, didn’t show up in time with his own set of friends and scare them off.

A knock on his office door. “Sheriff Truman?”

“Yeah, come in, Lucy.”

She does. “I could hear you shouting at your phone, which usually means you’ve been talking to Frank, and I know he upsets you sometimes so I brought you some coffee to help you feel better.” Lucy puts the mug on his desk.

Harry nods and smiles. “Thank you, Lucy. You didn’t… actually hear what it was about, did you?”

“No, the door is too thick and I’m too far from your office. But that’s probably good, since you had the door closed it means you didn’t want other people to hear your personal problems.” She pauses for a second instead of leaving. “Sheriff, when is Agent Cooper coming back? I know he’s not in the hospital anymore, so that means he’s doing better and he’ll come back to see us, right?”

“He’s out of the hospital, but he’s still healing up. Maybe he can come by and visit sometime around the end of the week.”

Lucy glances to where she left the door open, then leans in to start whispering. “Deputy Hawk and I have a bet going about how Agent Cooper likes you as more than just friends.”

Harry tries his best not to laugh. “If he does, who wins the bet?”

“No, we know he does. But the bet is about whether he’ll tell you or not before he leaves Twin Peaks and never comes back.”

“I think by telling me about this you’ve voided your bet, Lucy.”

“I think he will at the last minute and it’ll be big and dramatic like on _ Invitation to Love, _ then you’ll have a nice passionate kiss before he leaves and breaks your heart but one day he comes back to visit and you-”

“Lucy,” Harry interrupts, by now not sure what’s holding back the laughter, “he did already tell me. He told me as soon as I took him home from the hospital. I think you’ve been watching that show too much, there’s not usually anything big and dramatic like that in real relationships. Please don’t talk about this with anyone else besides Deputy Hawk going forward. Most of the town own guns and they’ll chase me out with them if they hear about this.”

“But Sheriff, there’s been lots of drama between me and Andy, so I’m not sure that’s true,” she protests.

“Haven’t you come to expect that from Andy?”

“Yeah… he’s very nice and I know he cares about me a lot, but he’s not always the smartest.”

“Okay. Thank you for the coffee, Lucy. I think we should both get back to work, now.” Thankfully she closes the door behind her, so maybe she won’t hear him cracking up. “Jeez Louise,” Harry mutters before covering his mouth with his hand to stifle the laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I got Lucy right... I did my best but I'm not sure she's on target here.
> 
> The "weird trick" Frank mentions is called compression therapy, and it can be done with a weighted blanket or (as in my case) your boyfriend lying on your back making you feel warm and held down and safe ^_^ I honestly have no idea if compression therapy was a thing in 1990 but it's something I really like and it's very good for anxiety, so I threw it in anyway.


	10. Lost Time Accompanied By Broken Promises

Dale is becoming somewhat restless by this point. It’s been more than a week since his return to the ordinary world, and he’s faced with a conflicting duality of emotions - it’s quite boring to sit on a couch all day with no case to work on and think about, but he also understands that returning to his profession means long spaces of time spent away from Harry. He also has relatively little to compare the situation to. The only other instance he can recall where he was forced into inertia was when the FBI put him on mandatory medical leave following his stab wound. But that’s still dissimilar, because Dale hadn’t had someone to care for him and sleep next to. It’s incredible to think how the presence of one man makes such a profound difference in his life.

The phone rings, which distracts from his current thoughts and leaves him confused - anyone intending to reach Harry at this hour would contact the sheriff’s station. Dale answers it anyway.

“Cooper here.”

“COOP! IT’S GORDON COLE! I COULDN’T REACH YOU AT YOUR HOTEL ROOM SO I TRIED THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE AND LUCY GAVE ME THIS NUMBER! WHERE ARE YOU?”

Dale flinches away from the phone briefly before he readjusts to the volume of his supervisor. “I’m staying with Sheriff Truman at the moment, Gordon! I’m injured and he’s been helping me take better care of myself until I recover!” he shouts. “Presumably you called for some other reason than to inquire about my lodging!”

“AS A MATTER OF FACT I DID! THE HIGHER-UPS AREN’T SATISFIED WITH ALBERT’S EXPLANATIONS AND THEY NEED YOU TO FLY BACK TO GIVE A BRIEFING, ALTHOUGH THAT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH ALBERT’S SPARKLING PERSONALITY MORE THAN HIS PRESENTATION OF THE FACTS! I KNOW HOW DISAPPOINTING THIS MUST BE FOR YOU BECAUSE DIANE MENTIONED YOU’RE SEEING SOMEBODY THERE, BUT MY HANDS ARE TIED! AT THE END OF THE WEEK THEY EXPECT TO SEE YOUR BUTT IN ONE OF THEIR CHAIRS AND AN EXPLANATION FOR THE STRANGENESS SURROUNDING THE LAURA PALMER CASE!”

Hearing this causes a sudden and inexplicable pain behind Dale’s sternum, and for a moment he’s rendered mute.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, COOP?”

He coughs. “I didn’t say anything, Gordon! What about my vacation time?”

“WHAT ABOUT IT? YOU CAN STILL TAKE IT AFTER THIS BUSINESS IS OVER WITH! GO BACK AND SEE YOUR GIRL WHEN YOU DO… IS IT THAT PRETTY BLONDE YOU WERE WITH IN THE DINER?”

“No, Gordon, unfortunately she went home as soon as she got out of the hospital!”

“I SEE! THEN IT MUST BE SHERIFF TRUMAN!”

“Gordon, I - how did you know?”

“I DIDN’T! IT SEEMS I’VE JUST LOST A FIVE HUNDRED DOLLAR BET WITH ALBERT! THE FIRST THING HE TALKED ABOUT AFTER HIS INITIAL VISIT TO TWIN PEAKS WAS HOW YOU TWO WERE MAKING EYES AT EACH OTHER!”

“Gordon is there any way you can postpone my briefing with the brass?”

“UNFORTUNATELY NOT, COOP! I DID WHAT I COULD, THE BEST I COULD GET YOU WAS THE END OF THE WEEK! AT FIRST THEY WANTED YOU BACK TWO DAYS FROM NOW!”

“That doesn’t give me much time…”

“WHAT?”

“I said it doesn’t give me much time!”

“NO IT DOESN’T, BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY I’M SORRY FOR THAT, COOP! I’LL DEFINITELY GIVE YOU YOUR MONTH OF VACATION AFTER THIS IS FINISHED UP, BUT UNFORTUNATELY I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG IT’LL TAKE! INTERNAL AFFAIRS IS GETTING INVOLVED AGAIN AND THERE’S LOTS OF ANGRY HIGHER-UPS JUST LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO BLAME!”

The door opens and Harry enters the house, carrying their dinner in boxes and wearing an amused smile. Dale feels rather crushed, because it means he’s about to ruin Harry’s good mood.

“I’m sorry Gordon but I have to go now!”

“ALRIGHT! JUST BE SURE TO LET US KNOW WHEN YOU’RE BACK IN DC!”

“I will! See you soon!”

“BYE COOP!”

Dale hangs up the phone and his overwhelming disappointment makes the action feel mechanical.

“Hawk and Lucy were taking bets on us,” Harry informs him while unpacking their food onto the counter. “Apparently they figured me out before I did.”

“Yes, it seems there’s a lot of that going around.” He sighs. “Harry I have news.”

“Okay.”

“It seems there’s going to be an investigation into my case here at Twin Peaks. Gordon and Albert managed to stall for time while I’ve been recovering, but unfortunately I’m being recalled to give a briefing to the higher-ups. I have to be back in DC on Thursday night.”

Harry’s entire being freezes on hearing this and Dale feels absolutely terrible. He promised two months and now they have three and a half days… it feels like a betrayal even though he knows he’s not at fault.

“But you’re still hurt,” Harry protests in an uncharacteristically small voice.

“When this is over Gordon said I can still take my vacation, so I’ll be back the second the brass are done with me.”

“Well when’ll that be?”

“I can’t say. There’s no way to know how long they intend to drag things out for. Harry I’m so sorry… I want to stay…”

Harry nods and takes his time sitting down, taking off his hat and setting it aside but not shedding his jacket. “I know you do.”

“I’ll call every night if I can help it and I’ll make sure to account for the time zone difference when I do.”

“Yeah. That sounds…” Harry takes a breath. “Just make sure you tell me as soon as you know when you’ll be back, Josie never did and-and it bothered me.”

Hearing this makes Dale’s chest ache. He approaches and places both palms on Harry’s shoulders, hopefully eliciting a feeling of reassurance. “Harry I’m not Josie. She had more than a few reasons behind everything she did whether we know what they were or not - there were always reasons for her to leave or to come back, and I’m sorry but I’m not convinced you were high on her list of priorities when she returned. I have every reason to leave Twin Peaks and only one reason to come back, but the reason to come back is far more important to me than any of the reasons to leave in the first place. I want to be where you are whenever the opportunity presents itself, and at some point I’m looking forward to taking that fishing trip with you. Quite frankly the degree to which I’m in love with you is ridiculous for such a relatively short amount of time, but I’m alright with it. I’m going to come back. You’re the only reason I’ll have to come back and you’re the only reason I need.”

The last person Harry had professed his love to was Josie, and to Dale’s knowledge she’d never returned the sentiment verbally. Harry’s still in pain from the loss of that relationship and may never be able to say out loud that he loves Dale. That’s alright. Dale already knows.

Harry nods with closed eyes. “Okay.”

Dale leans in and kisses him. It’s gentle and tender but also quite sad, knowing they’ll be forced to separate soon even if it’s only a temporary arrangement. Dale has very little interest in departing from Twin Peaks and he wishes the brass had chosen to believe Albert so that he wouldn’t have to leave.


	11. Epilogue - Surprises, But The Nice Kind

“I ordered extra donuts for today, Sheriff,” Lucy announces as she comes into his office.

Harry doesn’t move to look at her - he’s bent forward onto his desk with his face in his forearms. “Thank you, Lucy.”

“Are you feeling well, Sheriff? Winter is the cold and flu season but just because it’s spring doesn’t mean you can’t still get sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you have another phone-fight with Frank or are you still sad that Agent Cooper’s not back yet? Because if it’s one of those things then I feel better about ordering all the extra donuts since they’ll help you feel better.”

“It’s fine, Lucy, I promise. Thanks for the donuts. When Hawk gets in, send him my way.”

“Okay, Sheriff. Remember the day just started, it could get better.”

“Okay, Lucy.”

Harry still doesn’t pick up his head from his desk. Dale didn’t call last night… he’s called every night since he left five weeks ago, precisely at 6:05 pm, but yesterday there was nothing. He knows Dale, he knows there’s a good reason… but what if that good reason is Dale being hurt or trapped? Harry can’t get the thought out of his head and it’s driving him up a wall.

The door for his office is open, which means he can hear someone coming into the station - Lucy doesn’t get all excited, so it must be Hawk and not Andy. It’s a little weird when he hears a very quiet “shh” from the lobby, so apparently Hawk is up to something - maybe stealing all the powdered sugar donuts before anyone else has the chance to eat some.

Then there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Surprise, Harry.”

Harry’s head jerks up and there’s Dale, wearing his best smile and looking so exhausted that Harry thinks he probably shouldn’t be standing. He’s not really interested in that, though, because he’s too busy jumping out of his chair and yanking Dale into his arms for a kiss. It doesn’t matter that Dale shouldn’t be standing or that his office door is open, because Dale’s  _ here _ and that’s all he can think or care about.

Their foreheads rest together. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I was on a plane… Harry, I have some very exciting news for you.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t say very much due to the classified nature of the material I’ll be handling, but as a result of the inexplicable phenomena taking place in Twin Peaks the Bureau has decided to send a liaison to assist with the same program Major Briggs is part of. Because of my firsthand experience, I was their first choice. I’m even led to believe that Garland requested me personally. I’m sure you can gather what this means.”

“You’re not leaving again?”

“I’m not leaving again.” Dale smiles and kisses him a second time. “I’ll be required to fly back to DC to deliver a report three times a year, but aside from that my residency in Twin Peaks may henceforth be considered permanent.”

Harry comes back to his senses enough to notice that Dale is actually trembling with exhaustion. “Okay. I think you should sit down before you keel over, I’ll get you some coffee and donuts and we’ll keep talking about this.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Dale agrees, finally prying himself away from Harry and settling in a chair on the other side of the desk.

It’s only now that Harry notices Lucy, Andy and Hawk hovering conspicuously outside his office and drinking in every second like it’s a new episode of that damn soap opera.

“If I wanted this much attention on my personal life I would’ve sold tickets,” Harry half-snarks at them as he heads for the conference room to grab an entire box of donuts.

“Is Agent Cooper really staying?” Andy asks, trailing him like a puppy.

“Yes, Andy, that’s what he said.” He almost says something about Andy getting back to work, but realizes at the last second how much of a hypocrite he’d be if he did. “Since you can’t mind your own damn business, can you bring us an entire pot of coffee?”

“Okay, Sheriff.”

Harry hurries back to his office with the donuts because it’s pretty likely if he doesn’t Lucy will start giving Dale an earful for “making him sad” and nobody needs that right now. Sitting there after while they drink coffee with the door to his office still left open, Harry remembers how endearing it is to watch Dale stuff himself with pastries and comes to a decision.

“I’m going to buy a clear shower curtain.”

“Clear shower curtains exist?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw one at Horne’s once… if I can’t buy one I’ll just put metal rings through some weather sheeting.”

Dale nods thoughtfully. “That may prove to be very helpful. I had to cover my bathroom floor with towels when I was in DC.”

“I want you to feel safe.”

“I don’t feel unsafe, Harry. I just don’t like to be trapped.”

And Dale rambles for ten minutes about something Albert said about this, that he probably has claustrophobia or something but it’s not that big of a deal and he may learn to overcome it on his own if he works on it. Harry just sits and listens, drinking coffee and realizing he missed Dale’s rants even more than he thought he did.

Dale finally stops and just grins at him.

“What?” Harry asks.

“You watching me like this and smiling. Most people are less indulgent with my wordiness.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Coop.”

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” Dale rubs his face. “I’m also very much in need of a rest, would you mind if I take a nap in your office?”

Harry laughs. “How about I just take you home and you can have your nap there.”

He lets Lucy know he’ll be back in about twenty minutes, then they’re in the car and Harry’s already planning to kiss Dale senseless before he goes back to work. Then there are fingers on his head.

“Harry, it’s extremely pressing that you know…”

“What?”

Dale grins at him. “Your curls are still delightful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit that I stole the idea for Dale to work with Major Briggs from the comments of a different Dale/Harry fic. Please don't hold that against me, if the person who came up with that idea wants me to recognize them then I'll be glad to.

**Author's Note:**

> In 1990, it's likely these two would both call themselves bisexual because the understanding was limited. As to what their actual sexual orientation is, I can't answer. They're whatever you want them to be.
> 
> This fic actually didn't go the way I planned it - originally it would've been much angstier, but Dale refused to cooperate. Oh well.
> 
> I'm gay and my boyfriend got me into this show. Naturally I started shipping these two and went looking for fic for them, and there's a disturbingly small amount. I know this isn't the most original concept for a fic in this pairing but I wanted to throw in my two cents' worth.
> 
> ADDENDUM. Now with a long and angsty sequel: [The Owls Are Not What They Seem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129617/chapters/50283539)
> 
> All my Twin Peaks fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=127943&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Aaron_The_8th_Demon).
> 
> Comments are welcomed and encouraged :)


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